A.A. Milne, beloved children's author, respected citizen, poet, and wordsmith of the first order is best known for his classic tales of Pooh and the Gang. Like most of my generation, I grew up to his stories and have vivid memories of their hijinks and shenanigans (oh, whatever will that wacky Tigger do next!). Thus, I was stunned, and of course grateful, when when my brother e-mailed me a copy of his poem, "Vespers."
The text of this innocent little ditty goes like this:
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
God bless Mummy. I know that's right.
Wasn't it fun in the bath to-night?
The cold's so cold, and the hot's so hot.
Oh! God bless Daddy - I quite forgot.
If I open my fingers a little bit more,
I can see Nanny's dressing-gown on the door.
It's a beautiful blue, but it hasn't a hood.
Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good.
Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed,
And pull the hood right over my head,
And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,
And nobody knows that I'm there at all.
Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day.
And what was the other I had to say?
I said "Bless Daddy," so what can it be?
Oh! Now I remember it. God bless Me.
Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.
If that's not suggestive enough, dozens of Internet poets have taken it upon themselves to subtly rework Mr. Milne's words. To wit:
Little boy kneels at the foot of his bed
Little blue eyes in a little gold head
Hush! Hush! Don't say a word.
Christopher Robin is bashing his bird.
Two with the left, two with the right,
Wasn't it fun in the bath tonight?
The cold's so cold, and the hot's so hot...
I locked the door, so I wasn't caught.
Little boy kneels at the end of his nap
Little hands busy in dear little lap.
Hush! Hush! Keep it discreet.
Christopher Robin is beating his meat.
A.A. Milne-- you filthy bastard. Thank you.
1 comment:
It wasn't internet wits. The latter version (a bit longer than what's here) appeared in the letters page of the "Food" issue of National Lampoon in 1975. Every so often, I go back to the box to look at it again. I was hoping to find the full text on the web, but at the moment, your version is the closest I've found.
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